Thunder
by Loteva
Summary: Oneshot, between S7 and S8. Alone in Purgatory, Castiel grapples with his insanity. Can be read as a companion fic to "Snowflake".


Title: Thunder

Author: Loteva

Written: 12-30.12.2012

Time: Between S7 and S8

Warning: Small spoilers for S8.

Summary: Alone in Purgatory, Castiel grapples with his insanity. Can be read as a companion fic to "Snowflake".

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

Castiel was on the run.

It wasn't because of his sanity or lack thereof. It was because he had nothing else he could do, no one to turn to. He was in the middle of the battlefield, surrounded by countless enemies and the most vicious one of them had a personal vendetta against him, pursuing him doggedly, never intending to stop before its goal was attained. But the monster he was carrying inside was even worse.

When he had been thrown into Purgatory along with Dean and the Leviathan, he'd panicked. Though he had been a little better, he'd still avoided the conflict and his angelic senses picked up so much of it in there, he'd had to run. The place was practically soaked with it, its sole existence based on mindless violence with preserving one's life (if it could be called life) as the final purpose. He couldn't stand it.

Sensing the Leviathan closing in on him was another part of the reason he took off, leaving his friend to fend for himself. However, Castiel wasn't particularly worried – Dean was nothing but resourceful and as long as the Leviathan was kept away, he would be alright. The angel had confidence in his friend.

So he had zapped away and continued doing so but wherever he'd ended up, it was always the same – the diluted air and the feel of unrestrained brutality which made his skin crawl. He'd been rushing around not unlike a fly caught in a jar – bouncing off the walls helplessly as it tries to break free and fails every time.

He was like a beacon – whenever he stopped, the monsters attacked him in hope of acquiring a taste of his inherent power and the Leviathan was always just a step behind him, vengeful and immeasurably hungry. Castiel didn't think to fight any of them – he ran, never looking back.

But, no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't escape from Purgatory. It was already affecting him mere months after his arrival there. His powers were leaving him as he was completely cut off from Heaven and it sapped away at his own strength, too. There was no way for him to continue his instant getaways in the face of danger, instead he had to go by foot. The only advantage of this setback was the fact that due to substantial diminishing of his powers the Leviathan couldn't home in on him from a larger distance.

Castiel found himself vulnerable more than ever. Various monsters were constantly on his trail, only waiting for the most opportune moment to strike. He had left only one option to survive these rabid assaults – fighting, which he abhorred and tried to avoid at all costs. Still, he did it, because he knew he couldn't die, not before fully repenting for his sins.

In order to stay alive, the insanity he had absorbed from Sam, which wasn't really insanity but more of a shield, a security blanket protecting him from the brunt blow of his memories, an illumination which made him hyperaware and full of wonder at the creation – this so-called insanity had to be discarded. He almost regretted that decision.

Regaining his sanity hurt him physically (so much, if he was a human, he would have ended the misery himself. He never wished to be human so fervently.) He could have done it a long time ago, when he'd been still relatively safe at the asylum. The angel's mind was many times stronger than a human one, capable to neutralize the anomaly he took on himself willingly. Yet, he'd chosen to keep it, as a part of his penance and for a more selfish reason – to protect himself from his own inner monster.

Now, the shield cracked and bit by bit it crumbled until nothing remained but the bare core of his being and the memories which wouldn't leave him, always on the edge of his mind, tormenting him endlessly. The insecurities, fears and failures threatened to drown him, the omnipresent guilt smothering any hope for being forgiven he might have still retained. And whenever he smote a monster, he saw a face of a fallen brother, killed by the same hands – his blood-soaked hands.

With time, his mind was no longer consumed only with the guilt and self-deprecation, as first he slowly wrestled for a semblance of control and then stubbornly clang to what ground he gained, not allowing himself to fall back into the pit. In a rare moments of peace, when there was this infrequent lull in the battlefield of Purgatory, Castiel sat and thought. He was thinking of many things – the Winchesters, the Leviathan, his actions, the free will – but more often than not his thoughts went to his Father. And very soon, the disjointed thoughts and feelings turned into heartfelt prayers.

In a sense, Castiel relearned to pray. Although he knew that God isn't in Heaven and still believed in the free will he was given, speaking like that to his Father soothed him. The angel had been brought back enough times, even after falling, even after sinning and collaborating with demons, to recognize there was a reason to keep him alive. He still had some mission to accomplish. The problem was to find out what it was.

One thing became crystal clear – it was no coincidence he'd been sent to Purgatory. By killing the Leviathan, he had fixed his mistake, at least the root of it, but he still had to do penance. Until then, he would stay and suffer his punishment.

Sometimes, he heard the whispers of the monster which made him deal with demons. It sounded suspiciously alike Crowley. It taunted him, saying that he deserved to be in the monster jail because he was one of them – he was a monster and his guilt-ridden mind couldn't help but agree with that assessment.

Sometimes, Castiel looked up to the sky – the murky, cloudy sky – and asked 'Why Father? Why don't you let me die? Haven't I sinned enough?'

But the only answer he got was the rumbling roll of a thunder.

So he closed his eyes and obediently carried on living.

Because he was still Castiel.

The angel of the Lord.

* * *

A/N: For now, I finished all my "Supernatural" stories. Maybe I'll have some new ideas later, as I'm rewatching the series.

As always, I'm open for all the opinions, critiques, suggestions and advice. Also, there's a poll on my profile - feel free to vote.


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